


About Alice

by SidiScheda



Category: The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: 21st Century, A girl falls into ME, Blood and Violence, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Development, Denial, Exploration of classic tropes, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Madness, Medication, Minor Character Death, Mystery, POV Original Female Character, Romance, Slow Burn, Third Age, Time Skips, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-01
Updated: 2020-08-31
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:40:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 18,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24498079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SidiScheda/pseuds/SidiScheda
Summary: It's about her, Alice and her personal descend to her very own rabbit hole. Or maybe not. Maybe she had read too many times the adventures of Alice in Wonderland. Or she was getting mad like the Mad Hatter. She could hardly tell anymore. But the quote from the book pestered her - night and day. The man who visited regularly, Mr Hickley, yes, that one with short sandy hair and cashmere sweater, always looked so sad as she, every time without fail, recited to him, her now most cherished passage: "But it's no use now to pretend to be two people! Why there's hardly enough of me left to make one respectable person!" Maybe she was mad after all.
Relationships: Celebrían/Elrond Peredhel, Erestor/OFC
Comments: 6
Kudos: 26





	1. Down the rabbit hole

**Author's Note:**

> This is a long and perilous journey of a writer who tries to finish his work. The plot bunnies are hellish beasts. This work is not entirely new, at one point part of it was posted on FF.net many years ago. Now we are coming to an end...
> 
> ... wait no! This is it. The beginning.
> 
> Enjoy.

**Arc I.**

**Chapter I.**

**\- I -**

Someone took great care to dust the leaves of a ficus standing right next to the elevator. Every Single One was clean - the vibrant green catching Alice's attention as she stepped onto the third floor of the SYSFinity Industries. Once again, the waiting room was overly bright, and every surface meticulously pristine, from the freshly cleaned floors to the small seating arrangements.

That was new!

White plastic chairs were organized into modern quadruple seating islands around low tables to presumably make the newcomers feel more comfortable, except they didn't. Uneasiness settled inside her stomach as if she ate stones for breakfast.

Deep breath and one more.

Fortunately, this time she had only to square her shoulders, and move to sit the furthest from everyone, so she would be able to maintain her calm and composure. From the beginning of this unpleasant endeavour of job hunting, she has decided to keep her professional level to the maximum. It was imperative to be seen as a well-composed, well educated and well-behaved woman from the start on. It was almost subconscious, when she sat, her legs went together, and to the side, after all, she was well trained in body language mannerisms. Be damned that expensive course she took for the benefit of having an edge to the others, as mom had put it.

Her body held straight, hands in her lap she begrudgingly allowed that the turquoise complements gave the environment a fresh productive atmosphere that felt almost welcome - almost. As it was an immaculate receptionist sat behind a glossy designer counter, on the other side of the room, giving her chills. The woman, like so many other before her, with long ruby nails and a false smile plastered on her face, looked especially busy while typing away on her standard Lenovo, doubtlessly chatting on Facebook.

Yet another interview. How many was she on until now. Thirteen? A tiring, annoying, uncomfortable thing. She smiled a small smile, which was perpetually glued to her face. Her hands twitched in her lap; she was hard-pressed not to rub them.

The typing stopped, a loud click-clack of black stilettos near her seat emphasizing the silence in the room. "Miss Hare, you can go in," the receptionist announced and her mascara-burdened eyelashes fluttered like butterfly wings. The woman, a head taller than she, led her, waiting for her to enter next door, with her too polite uninterested smile.

Who found such women to represent any Industry? Was it prescribed in an ISO standard order to have them as the same uninterested barbies in every bigger corporation?

Alice had no time to ponder as she looked up, another white plastic chair awaited her to sit upon opposite another well dressed middle management lackey.

"Welcome, Miss Hare. My name is Michael Weiss. I am a section manager for the sales department. "The obligatory handshake and her soft-spoken reply on her smiling lips; the whirlwind of well-worn questions with "Why have you applied for this position, Miss Hare?" started and she knew all her answers with the experience of a seasoned veteran.

"You mentioned one of your hobbies is reading. What is a recent book you have read?" The mood softened, it lost its edge of strict professionalism and the interview elapsed to the second half.

"Something recent… ah from Elena Ferrante My brilliant friend. But, mostly I prefer mystery novels and literature of the 19th and 20th century." The first book didn't register, and as expected, the man could only come up with Arthur Conan Doyle's Sherlock Holmes. The conversation turned towards his safer topic of movies and TV series adaptations of Doyle's stories. Swallowing her disappointment, firmly telling herself she didn't care anymore she politely smiled and nodded at appropriate intervals for the manager to see (show) she was paying attention. Pleased with the topic he rambled on.

Drinking from the glass of water offered to her at the beginning of the interview, she tactfully reminded silent, alert. This was a crucial time in an interview. Even though the manager talked, he assessed her, of that she was sure. She swallowed, trying to hide her frustration. Every one of them was the same, without real interest, they were merely looking for another mindless sheep to herd into the corporation. Yes, she would be just one of many. Surely he needed only to tick the required squares and evaluate if she would be able to work from 9 to 5 and longer. Another soul to exploit and when all the resources would be exhausted, the quickest way for them is to kick her out on some pretence accusations. Alice felt her displeasure at the thought; to be pushed to work in these environments made her skin itch.

Nonetheless, she didn't rub at her arms, instead of letting them rest in her lap. She knew what was expected of her, to be a perfect, composed young woman looking for her first job opportunity.

Few more minutes and she would be finished with the interview.

Few more minutes and she could be herself.

Only a few more minutes and Mr Weiss would be pleased enough to conclude the meeting.

Alice smiled and listened.

Finally exhausting the subject of managers' interest, the interview was at its end, and it was like a switch, Mr Weiss was back in his professional role, amiably informing her they will get in touch. Another handshake and she was back in the white and turquoise waiting room, looking at another candidate sitting on the white plastic chair and the secretary once again typing away on her computer disinterestedly.

Exiting the lobby, then the building and walking into the bright spring day was freeing. The damned interview had her reeling. Alice took a deep breath - sunlit spot! Yes! That's what she needed, what would make her feel better. Through the busy street, she found herself one. Between two ten floor old buildings, where the sun just peaked from behind the highest corner, breathing, waiting for her equilibrium to return. Alice looked up, the sun momentarily blinding her when she stepped from the shade.

Shade?

What was that? Had the sun gone behind the building? That was a possibility. The old 60ties building was after all quite high. So she turned, and gaped! Trees, tall trees behind her, really a forest, lush greenery greeted her like it was there forever. She stood in their shade, soft grass crunching under her shoes.

What? What was that? She frowned, confused. Turned and there she was on the edge of the forest.

Alice screamed, then laughed. A man was standing only a few steps away from her. Thank God, someone, why he looked like someone who had run away from shooting of a medieval movie. Would it be 14th - 15th century? A sword? "Oh, you have me scared there. Where's the camera?"

Trees rustled in the breeze.

Tallgrass swayed gently from side to side.

Sun pricked her eyes.

Everything was bright, yellowish-green.

Blue sky.

Silent.

Everything was, horribly, disastrously WRONG.

She stood no longer on the asphalt sidewalk, nor the buildings were behind her anymore. No civilization in sight, except her in her uptight clothing. The grasslands in front of her, a forest behind her and the man.

She stared, heart hammering in her chest.

What? Where was she? Alice looked sidewise to the left, then right, confused, she couldn't move if she wanted.

No! Her hand shot to touch her head in a reflex. No injury. This was some kind of weird dream. A bark of laughter left Alice.

Turning in a circle, around her was a wilderness and the silent man.

He stood calm, unphased it seemed, and frankly, she would have forgotten him in her confusion, save he moved. He appeared as frightening as any genuine woodsman from the 15th century would. With a hand on the hilt of his sword, clad in worn leather tunic and dirty high knee boots, the stranger appeared tense as a feral cat, ready to leap.

Her first impulse was to run. But why should she? It was too ridiculous and the gut feeling so new to her, she persuaded herself not to - albeit, he looked extremely unpleasant. Unwashed hair hung in greasy strands around his face, the dirt and sweat streaked his brows, yet she took the last few steps forward, closing the distance between them and stood just in front of him, hands reaching to touch him. Feeling like a moth drawn to the flame, she tried to inspect him more closely. His mien was harsh as his intelligent brown eyes scrutinizing her as she examined him. Absentmindedly, she smoothed her carefully plaited hair. The stranger seemed irritated by her action and loosened his grip on the sword's hilt. No, he didn't seem to be baffled by their surroundings or in any way moved by their circumstances. That was strange.

But she was slow, sluggish to make conclusions. Why was he not freaking out? She was! And the horrible smell. Alice made a slight step back; she shouldn't be here. The whole situation was extremely uncomfortable. Under his gaze in her white blouse and a black knee-length dress. The tension was almost palpable in the air. Now she was really at a loss, smiling ruefully, standing only a few feet away from him. "So, I am going then...". She made another small step backwards.

**-II-**

Her breath came out shallow, in quick puffs, leaving her woefully short on oxygen. Alice was immensely thankful, she had opted for her shoes without heels. A fortunate choice. With heels on the soft forest ground, fleeing would be virtually impossible. But she had to keep running! Alice pushed herself with every last bit of willpower to quicken her flight.

When the woodsman had moved closer, Alice hadn't expected anything. As she made a small step back, he advanced. She made another step, and he came closer. As Alice was within woodman's reach, he lunged for her. She had recoiled in fright, nearly stumbling backwards.

Even a village idiot in the Middle Ages would have recognized a threat and had enough wits about him to run at first sight of that character. But then again, the 21st century hadn't prepared her in slightest for such situations. Now her fear rose, and with it a desperate feeling of futility. She felt him closing in on her, the pounding of his steps beating the leaf-covered ground.

She shouldn't have neglected her first instinct. It became apparent even to Alice that this man is dangerous and means her harm. How was it possible that she always failed so miserably when it came to judging people? It was getting old.

Her escape was suddenly halted as her satchel caught on the branches of a nearby tree. She turned without a second thought to reach for it - tugged.

A mistake!

Her pursuer was only a foot away. She dodged to the left, circling a stout trunk. For a second out of sight, she lunged under the nearest bushes, crawling through them and emerging on the other side.

Another mistake!

The shrubs were too sparse to afford any kind of protection. Scrambling to her feet, Alice once again tried to run for it. The woodsman didn't hesitate, grabbing her plaited hair yanking it back. Alice yelped, her hands flew to his wrists. Clawing with short nails trying to break his skin was useless, she knew it. Even so, Alice struggled to release his painful hold. She would play no pliant woman, her adrenalin rocketing, making her heart beat furiously against her ribcage. Once again, she furiously buried her fingernails into his skin, this time drawing blood.

"Stop struggling wench!" his growl startled her, and then he yanked backwards, without not so much of an effort. His fist closed tightly on her scalp. She yelped in pain, redoubling her efforts to free herself, flinching against the pain. Breathing harder, he pulled her backwards. Alice stumbled along, still trying, hands clawing trying to release her hair from his hold.

Alice felt like a rabbit caught by its ears, couldn't bring herself to stand properly, scrambling with her feet - whimpering as the pain morphed into a deep bloom on her scalp. And then he kicked her feet from under her, making her fall forward. The only connection between them was her hair in his hand; it hurt so much she wailed.

She fumed with exertion. It was ironic how she couldn't manage to scream or call for help. In movies, the damsel in distress always cried at the top of her lungs. But here she was, unable to make a sound. His knee was pressing in the small of her back, her hands pushing against the dirt. She was trying to get herself on all fours, to gain some ground and he sat on her, with full weight. It was fruitless. She flailed helplessly around. Gasping and grunting like a pig in mud, she still refused to give up.

She froze beneath him as his cock thrust against her bottom, her breath hitching in her throat. Now she would be raped? The acidic taste in her mouth was horrible. She heaved, unable to move as he pressed into her deeper. It was then effortless for him to flip her around, catch her hands and bind them in front of her.

He looked so satisfied. Alice just couldn't make herself do anything anymore. Her whole body was trembling, and the woodsman pushed into her again dry humping her, leering at her. The feel of his clothed length was intimate as the head of his cock rubbed against her hipbone. Disgust closed her throat as he didn't stop. She couldn't suppress her whimpering - tiny, pathetic noises. And she tried, really tried to stop them, but she couldn't. They sounded shameful in her ears, pitiful and he smiled more contentedly as he, at last, stood up, looked at her like she was a gold mine and yanked the rope. "On your feet, woman. Walk!"

**-III-**

It was getting darker, and they haven't stopped yet. Gritting her teeth against cramping muscles, Alice trudged on, her face and hands covered in dirt. The whole front of her black knee-length dress was just as filthy as any five-year-olds sweatpants after he played outside. The bastard hadn't bothered with her in any way. When she had tripped and had fallen, he simply pulled on the rope, expecting her to quickly scramble to her feet and continue walking. She looked in front of her, not around, not anymore, nor at her bound hands, rather not. Her wrists itched. Pink, slightly puffed flesh scrubbed raw from the constant tugging. She tried, at the beginning to push the rope slightly forward just to ease the pressure on the tender flesh, but she couldn't. And when occupied by her efforts, she had fallen more often than not, so she stopped trying. Her wrists would be rubbed raw, for sure bloody when he would deem to release her. Oh wait, he just didn't care. Bastard!

That, however, wasn't her immediate worry. Alice frustratingly licked her chapped lips again. Repeatedly! For a few hours now, she had to do so, to at least get some moisture on them. Her body demanded something to drink or eat. So she chewed on nothing to at least get some saliva in her mouth. It worked for a while as well as pretending she wasn't hungry or thirsty. Persuading herself helped, but now, at the end of the day, she felt parched. It was all she could think of. Should she ask? Was she afraid to ask for water? Or something to eat?

No, she wasn't. She wasn't! Only...

Having missed the moment when the man in front of her stopped, she ran head-long into his back. His strange angered words were lost on her as the roar in her ears was not the exhaustion, but a nearby river with its welcoming sound. The greyish water set into rocky banks rushed away from the silhouette of the mountains in the background. For the first time in a while, Alice looked up. From right to left, all-around there was steppe. They peregrinated quite a distance from the forest's border. Only now Alice came to the realization; it was refreshing to hear something else than the whistling and whining sound of rushing wind through the plains.

The woodsman led them down to the stream, and she carefully picked her way, not prone to fall head down to the rushing water, only then realizing how thirsty she was. Her eyes turned to the man who was already kneeling and drinking the cold liquid. Alice didn't hesitate and followed his example, leaning against the bank, drinking hastily, in great gulps. The water was cold, and it felt so good to quench her thirst. Afterwards, she plunged her hands to elbows into the water, soothing her aching wrists. She left them in the running water and nearly tumbled into it herself, as the woodsman's' voice sounded from above her.

"We will stay here through the night. Come!" It was the first real sentence during their long march. Growling silently, she pushed herself at first into a sitting position, panting like a wild animal; she wasn't sure if she wasn't becoming one, then scrambled back upwards the steep river bank to their encampment. It cost her nearly all the strength she had left.

She ground her teeth together. Scared and tired she didn't want to be left here bound like a beast for slaughter. But facts were simple. She was sitting on the grassy patch; her hands rubbed raw by a hemp cord, now getting tighter as it dried, filthy and hungry; it was nearly as bizarre as seated on a white plastic chair in the too sterile environment of the SYSFinity Industries. This situation was just absurd; she couldn't underline it more. These two worlds were so far away from each other, with no common ground; yet they were somehow familiar. Pondering their vast differences would be unreasonable, of course, but the fact she felt in both situations uncomfortable and ripped out of reality didn't help either.

So what was the outcome anyway? Analyzing how it all happened was still beyond her. Not that she didn't understand the mechanics of abduction, no really no, but she had never thought this could happen to her. And she wouldn't examine the apparent reason that was so horribly wrong here. She had been on the main street, Alice had had the interview this morning, she was sure of it. Sure! But her muddled head was wrapping itself about the only thing she could think of: Dodgson's Alice's Adventures in Wonderland. What was the quote? Ah! "When I used to read fairy tales... when I used to read fairy tales... when I used to read fairy tales..." She would have laughed at the irony if she had strength left for such actions.

No, the only possibility was to turn her mind to something present, more earthy which she could examine right here, right now to give herself some measure of control. The woodsman was dangerous - there was no denying that. Anything reckless and she could end up raped or worse. His last show of strength was still fresh in her memory, tingling with alarming clarity through her body. He was sickening.

But the fact that she had no idea where she was, was frightening, she had to admit as much. If she wanted to get out of here, she had to confront the man. Maybe with a little bit of luck, she would discover where she was and what this was all about. What would happen to her afterwards was entirely a different story. Her head supplied very colourful images of her future; none of it pleasant, that she knew for sure.

Sitting with her hands in front of her, she silently, demurely, observed the man. The bastard sat opposite her, fidgeting with what looked like a stone and long hunting knife, getting a fire started.

Alice took a deeper breath, and he looked up, expectantly.

"Excuse me." and his displeasure was evident. Alice did what she could best, using her calm, collected voice asking the least important question on her best behaviour. "Could you possibly tell me where we are?"

It seemed to work, he looked confused, so she asked again, politely, deliberately "Could you tell me where we are?"

His shoulders squared, but she refused to give up. "It would be profitable for you if you would answer me. This one-sided conversation is tiring."

Maybe she should have seen it as a warning, but instead, it made her bolder, more reckless. She became audacious, unable to stop herself. Maybe it was because she feared him or from the elation, she could finally rest, she couldn't tell, but Alice was seriously pushing her luck, and she liked it.

"Could you cut the rope?" she blurted out. A stupid question yes but her wrists hurt. The hemp rope was now tighter than before.

He half-choked half cough, looking at her incredulously answering her this time "Do you think I will do it?"

She considered it for a while. "No." And that was disappointing. But she got him talking. No?

"Who are you? Where are we going? What do you plan with me?" she jabbered. "My family is not involved in politics or even remotely acquainted with any celebrity. You wouldn't gain any publicity from kidnapping me. It would be better to..." she stopped.

The realization hit her like lightning. They were in the middle of nowhere. If the man wanted publicity, he would arrange it otherwise, not dragging her the whole day without food through the plains of where?

"I can pay you. How much do you want?" She wheezed. No way in hell will this happen to her - abducted by a greasy-haired weirdo.

His cold gaze froze her in place. He laughed. Was her question in any way funny? Or more wretched?

He abruptly stopped laughing, and his eyes locked with hers. "Now shut up."

"But tell me the price." she didn't want to give up.

"I said SHUT UP."

"I can pay. We can..." She, at last, resolved to beg. What else there was to do?

Suddenly she lay on her back with the man atop her, his dagger against her pale throat. He deliberately pressed it into her, nicking her skin. Red blood coated the blade; the steel, now ruddy, gleamed in the setting sun. It excited him, she could feel it, and Alice started to struggle. Finally registering what was happening. He would kill her for sure. He would rape her and then kill her. Her hands tried to press against his chest. She was gasping for breath, his weight preventing her from inhaling properly.

"Now hear me carefully," he leaned closer; his breath was searing against her face. Goosebumps immediately rose on her exposed neck, and his weight settled more heavily on her.

"You will behave and speak only when asked. Do you understand?"

She managed to nod.

"You will obey my every order! When I say walk, you will walk; when I say shut up, you WILL shut up!" his words were punctuated by the more prominent press of the blade. She wheezed, feeling like the thin line of blood trickled now down behind her ear.

"And when you don't..." a pungent silence interrupted only by her frantic attempts to draw breath "there are many ways to force you to cooperate. Have I made myself clear?"

With her eyes tightly shut against tears, she nodded once again.

"GOOD!" He released her towering over her.

It was almost like an afterthought when he backhanded her. Bright flash, then blackness enveloped her.

**\- IV -**

"... move."

Alice grumbled in frustration. After everything, she had to move again? Her head hurt, her throat hurt, her feet hurt, her whole body hurt damn it. Would the bastard force her to walk again? Wasn't all his show of superior force and strength enough of a reminder of who was in charge?

Someone collided with her. The next thing she knew her cheek hit with a floor. That captured her attention and hurt. That and the fact she felt warm concrete floor as in the hot day in a city.

Her eyes flew open.

The main street at summer noon was buzzing with life. She, however, was sprawled on the ground. A man with piercing eyes and a scowl on his face, obviously in a foul mood was standing over her barking on her something about being irritatingly bothersome as she wasn't paying attention where she was standing and what she was doing.

She had to look confused as he bristled even more and stormed away angrily letting her there lying on the floor.

Alice watched him go, then like on autopilot she slowly sat up, bend to collect her scattered CVs and started her walk home.


	2. Life is innocent laughter and fun

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought I would post every ten days, but life caught up with me. However, I will still try. 
> 
> The title for this chapter, if you haven't guessed already, is from Alice in Wonderland by Lewis Carroll:  
> "You are too naïve if you do believe life is innocent laughter and fun." Cheshire Cat
> 
> Enjoy :)
> 
> EDIT: I realized after finishing editing Chapter III, I wrongly divided my Chapters II and III. Therefore, I am adding the missing text into Chapter II. I am soo sorry. It begins from IX.
> 
> p.s.: warning for violence, swearing and death.

**Arc I.**

**Chapter II.**

**\- V -**

Alice was beside herself. An iron fist clenched her gut, driving her to pace in her room even after five days at home. Dejectedly she wished her home, where she felt most secure under cover of familiarity, would lessen her agitation. It didn't.

Alice had been relieved when she had entered the well-known housing complex where she had lived with her family for as long as she could remember. Their flat was spacious with five rooms and a cosy kitchen where they sat during their meals, chatting away all their sorrows and joys of their lives.

Thankfully, Victor hadn't been home; in fact, no one had been home at the time. Her parents had been working, and Viki, fortunately, attended one of his sport's events. She could have had her time to collect herself; to think over what had happened and if it hadn't been just a dream although the strange feeling persistently lingered. The most curious had been the absence of her injuries. Her wrists had been smooth, her skin on her neck flawless. However, the feeling of the injuries lingered. How many times had she caught herself rubbing her tender skin on her wrists, or at her jugular? The unease that came with it, it wasn't good at all.

Tired and stressed out, she made herself another cup of tea. Was it real, or was it just a lapse of her mind to create such a wildly vivid story. Maybe she interpreted Mr Weiss at that time as too offensive, and somehow it related to her imagination? Or she overextended, and her frazzled nerves snapped to create such a ludicrous scenario.

Even though she came to her refuge on the balcony with a steaming chamomile tea in her hands, she didn't feel at ease. Alice looked at the small ripples in her drink, her hands shook. And as on purpose, there on the adjourning porch sat Andrea looking at her expectantly. "So how did it go? Any luck this time?"

Alice only shrugged and drank her tea. She wanted to be left alone. This morning she was in another recruitment agency.

"Aren't you talkative today." Andrea leaned closer, examining her. Her friendly smiling face didn't brink ease, Alice knew her too well. She watched her like a hawk. Why does the woman have to be always so prying? She was too perceptive for her own good. At the moment, however, she was pushing her around to get her to talk. Alice retreated into herself even more as the blond woman with too revealing a shirt wouldn't let go. And she had to make her smiling facade slip as Andrea pressed on "Clearly, you weren't that upset when you returned from any other interview when we talked. What had happened?"

So she caved, at least a little bit, to gain some space. "The interview was as always all right." Alice smiled. Or rather bothersome. Same facades, same questions about what I would like to work on, what were my preferences, if I know how to work with an excel or how many languages do I speak and to what extent. "They were friendly. However it took longer than I had expected." It annoyed the hell out of her. And it had, she realised. The false smiling facades of the corporate employees, she hated it.

Alice stood abruptly "I think, I am going to yoga class. I need to clear my head." She was inside before Andrea could say anything. The doors on the balcony shut behind her with a resulting thud. And what if she had run. Who could blame her?

Alice had intended to go to the yoga class. She didn't want to think about what had happened in front of the entrance of the hiring agency, as her knees had bucked and she had to hold herself up by the railing to not to collapse. Alice didn't really want to think about it. She had been overwhelmed, she had felt dirty, even though her clothes had been neat, her hair pristine, she had had the urge to scrub herself clean from top to bottom or run back home to hide. Alice didn't want to remember, and yet she shook. Her memories of what had happened then and the aftermath now were still fresh. The day with the woodsman in the steppe stayed too vivid even after four, no five days after. She shivered as she remembered every nasty detail. Involuntary, she once again could feel the woodman's breath upon her ear, as it fanned against her skin, her blood that had trickled down her neck. His hands were holding her down, and his pelvis was thrusting into her, making her shudder with disgust and unchecked fear.

Again and again.

She didn't need a yoga class.

She craved a shower. She needed a shower. She had to have a shower right now to scrub the horrid feeling off of her.

Hurriedly, she got the blue-white striped blouse off. Her trousers down next, hopping on one foot, getting her nylon socks off. White cotton knickers fell in front of the bathroom floor followed by the bra, nearly running into the shower.

Hot water was pouring on her head, down her back, and it felt good. So good Alice closed her eyes, her black eyeliner running down her face.

She stood under the stream for a half an hour counting the tiles, 60 greys, 80 with a fanciful pattern of a French quarter Bourbon in New Orleans.

It was just a hallucination. Something that her mind created under stress from another job interview.

It was an aberration. Nothing more.

Was it?

**\- VI -**

The smell of burning rubber, wheels wheezed and cars thundered past her as she stood close to the motorway. Which round was it? Alice wondered why she always let herself be dragged to the racings. She hated it; the air was heavy with gasoline. Engines thundered, their conversation lost in the howl of cars roaring past them.

The air smelled, the noise was deafening, and all the cheering people got Alice uncomfortable as they pushed and pulled like a wave around her.

Honestly, this time she went, because she wanted to forget all the strange dreams and smells, she messed up feelings and reactions of her own body in the past week and a half. Alice hoped the races would ground her to here and now, especially because she was not fond of them.

She smiled at Hannah and Paul, who cheered with enthusiasm. Paul took them both this time to the racings. Alice suspected he wanted to present himself in a better light - as usual. But, she didn't care this time, not as much as she should.

Hannah smiled back at her and started to talk.

"What?" Alice screamed.

"I said," You do not look happy. You aren't really into this, I know. Do you do..." Hannah screamed back, but her last words were lost in the noise as another racing car whooshed past them, so she tossed her head to the side where Paul stood.

No, she wasn't doing it for him. She was doing it for herself.

It was a good distraction, after all.

Afterwards, she and Hannah sat together. "Ooooh, coffee. Finally." Alice plopped on the seat with a sigh of relief. Her head hurt from the roaring of motor engines. They finally ended in a cafe downtown, a pretty little establishment with dissimilar upholster chairs, rustic decor and affordable prices, where Paul wouldn't let himself be seen, at any cost. That was his decision. She and Hanna loved it here, and anyway, the coffee was delicious.

"And cake! You look like you need a cake." Hannah dropped opposite her on the striped golden-cream sofa. The trials for tomorrow's finals on Hungaroring were over. Tomorrow, they will watch from the comfort of Paul's penthouse the exciting tournament getting to an end for this season.

"Do you have sun cream? I forgot mine". Hannah gently touched her pinking shoulders. "I will pay for it tomorrow. I should have returned home for the shawl."

"Sorry, darling, I forgot to bring mine. Wait maybe… ha, these are after sun samples. My aunt got me a bunch from last month's Eva." Alice got to the bottom of her bag.

"Oh, how many, did she buy or just... "Hannah got closer, winking "You know...stole them."

"What? No. No, her boyfriend gets them as a benefit in the Newspapers."

"Really? You can take all the samples from the unsold magazines?"

"Yep, what else to do with them? They will throw them away, so you know sustainability."

"That would be something Paul wouldn't understand." Hannah opened the small pack of a Nivea after sun cream coating her shoulders.

"Hm, no. Not really. The last time he threw a perfectly good t-shirt out because it had a small tear from the washing machine. Wasteful I tell you that." Alice pointed vehemently with her pastry fork.

"But you know, he can afford it with all his money." Hannah bit into the new arrived strawberry shortcake. "Yummy! I am always so glad we come here. These cakes are just dreamy. Anyway, how's job hunting? You seemed run down lately."

"So - so… every other day an interview. Mom is getting really on my case these days. Guarding me like a watchdog. How many applications do I send every day and if I want to write to this particular company, you know her, the usual stuff."

"But she means well."

"Hm… I cave, sending one more application to the company she pics, it makes no difference. But I had this weird daydream after exiting the SYSFinity about a woodsman and a forest." Alice chewed on the banana from her Cuba cake. "He abducted me. Can you imagine? It was like I was there and then back. Could it be overwork? Or just too many interviews in a row?"

"Maybe? Or just an inspiration struck. You know these interviews are boring and maybe when you talked about something that could trigger your imagination… it could be it."

Yeh, I should have an Inspiration about Sherlock, not a medieval character. You know Cumberbatch is sooo hot."

"You mean Cumberbitch."

Alice sniggered. "Yeh… that would be something completely different. The cheekbones."

"The eyes…" Hannah singsonged.

Finally, it was the start of a perfect outing.

**\- VII -**

Alice excused herself. With quick steps, she crossed the hall to the bathroom. She didn't slam the door, but she let them close with a resounding thud, emphasising her anger. Past three weeks were fortunately uneventful. That was until now. Alice could hear Paul's footsteps following, quiet steps on the expensive hand-woven carpet, so she let the water run to muffle his sounds and splashed her face.

Paul was once again his obnoxious, snobbish self with seafood and champagne prepared in his pent. What was he thinking? Stuck-up idiot. She would rather eat chicken wings and drink beer, crashing with Hannah in her room and listen to her squeals of delight as they would watch F1. Instead, they had to go to a stuck-up party, watching formula on an 8K UHD Smart TV at Pauls. Or whatever.

Why he cared was beyond her—always insisting and pushing to the point of her consent. Sometimes it was too unbearable. He needed a woman that would adore him for who he was and praise him as he desired it. She wasn't that kind of woman, and still, he wouldn't give up. Hannah always told her to explain herself clearly, to say to him straight away. But wasn't her denying enough? Her aloofness? Her lack of response? He had to let go sooner or later and form an attachment to another more willing, more suited for him than her.

Today, however, his idiotic notion of the world reached its peak.

The collision of vehicles at the start had been unfortunate, but mainly unexpected; all the riders were seasoned drivers with enough experience to avoid such accidents.

Six of the cars had crashed, wheels screeching, metal bending under the strain of collision and everything was covered in the white smoke rising from the crash. All the remaining cars had whooshed around them, leaving the scene behind with running attendants and moving supportive vehicles to the rescue. A yellow flag had flown high before the collision to alert the riders to slow down.

And then it had come all down to a heated discussion about accidents, from it to violence, and Paul had been just unreasonable.

"It's TV news. Of course, it's all about crying and dying. What do you expect? This sells."

"This is not a reality show. These people are dying out there. It's happening. How could you be so casual about it." Hannah had asked in disbelief.

Paul had just shrugged. "It is so, accept it. In the middle ages, people enjoyed watching executions. It had been a form of entertainment. They gathered, they talked. It had been like going to watch a good horror movie. You know. The chills."

"Yeh, I would enjoy a good slasher or broker on a wheel." Tibor laughed his perfectly crafted fake laugh. "You believe that everyone was disgusted? Not everyone vomited, they enjoyed their time, oohed and aahed when the man had cried in pain and then when he had died, they had gone home to have lunch. Where is the difference between then and now? We had lunch the other day watching war news as well."

Susan had nonchalantly picked one of the king shrimps, as she agreed,  
"That is so accurate. I say I don't have any problem with all of that. On a Prima channel, you can watch crime news all the time. It is good to know if some stabbing psycho doesn't live in your neighbourhood. I would be absolutely unnerved." and bit with gusto into it—the juice running down her slender fingers.

"Are you comparing crime news with actual war and medieval executions? There is a vast difference between these concepts. You have to..." Hannah crossed her arms.

"Oh, is it? Let's see. Every incident is based on violence; it doesn't matter if it is in our history or now. The fundamental concept is in all aspects the same - causing pain, distress and most of the time death. It is horrendous physically and psychologically as well, causing emotions to rise. Thus, violence sells. The new point here is that the availability is immediate." Paul was now serious. "You can say it has become the most popular form of entertainment for the general audience. Except for drama and sex of course. "

That was it. Alice was fuming, but joining the conversation meant to get into a crossfire between Paul and Tibor on one side and Hana on the other. Susan was just herself. That didn't count.

"So, violence sells. You are trying to tell me that that's all that matters? Are you so aloof to what is happening, or just you don't care, because it's not happening here, right now, in this city? Regular citizens are at war, homeless, without food… they are helplessly caught in the middle, and you are here snug in your penthouse lecturing about how violence sells." Hanna reeled.

"Were you brought up in a cloister? Go save the world, Theresa."

Hannah ground out. "You are missing the point, Tibor. I don't want to save the world… it's about emotional awareness. Paul look..."

"What do you expect from me? To sob or droll about how horrible it is? Look, you have many organisations helping them out. From the Red Cross to NATO to donations and philanthropists. For us here, it is good to stay informed, feelings aside." Paul just shrugged.

"Stop interrupting me, and we can have a proper conversation. Not this one-sided solo ranting."

"When did I cut you short?" Tibor bristled.

"You don't remember, do you? A minute ago…"

Munching on another shrimp Suzan just piped around the mouthful "I would prefer more altruistic news, like learning crocheting or politicians cleaning streets or painting fences…" she had trailed off.

And some of the tension broke.

They had looked at each other unsure, then had burst out laughing. A loud jiggly sound of a Cow Milka broke through their snickers as advertisement break caught their attention.

"Toilet break!" Tibor had called.

"First!" Alice had angrily gruffed.

"Paul has more than one bathroom, Al. You don't have to call dibs."

"Then go downstairs." She just sputtered at him as she had walked past.

Alice sighed as the water-cooled her face and closed her eyes for a moment to still her rising anger, before making a commotion when Paul would knock on the door, asking if she was all right.

**\- VIII -**

As she opened her eyes, Alice stared into the black night as droplets of light rain fell onto her face.

She was up instantly. Her heart raced. What? No. Not again. Not this. She took it easy on herself the past month. Oh God. Alice struggled against her bonds, furtively, angrily tossing from side to side as the river muffled all her efforts.

Out of breath, she stilled. Was she losing her mind? But all her faculties worked perfectly. Hard ground, little twinkling lights above, the smell of fresh grass, wet clothes… wait, what did she have on at Paul's? Jeans and t-shirt, so why is she in her clothes from the last time? What was this? Alice released a shaky breath into the silence. I won't cry, I won't! A mantra for her fragile mind. Yet, she shuddered, small tremors ran from her spine to her arms and legs, making her shiver uncontrollably. Alice bit her lip. The slight physical pain was a correct distraction from her state of mind. Squeezing harder, she tried to evoke an ache that would provide her with something else to think about. It was strangely reassuring; the pain.

Her lip broke, and coppery droplets of warm blood filled her mouth. Her tongue automatically licked at the open cut, as she struggled not to burst into tears once again.

The next day came and went. They made several short breaks by the river. He even gave her some dried meat to chew on as she observed the scenery. What else was there to do? He wouldn't talk to her; she couldn't escape. She was too tired to try anyway. At least she watched the vast steppe. It was actually beautiful, with soft rolling hills, tall grass swaying in a breeze and a cluster of trees up ahead. It was apparent; they were slowly making their way to them. It had to be a landmark of sorts or something.

As they stopped for the night under the canopy of the trees, it was a wood they walked into. However, rather than contemplate the landmarks, she had another matter that needed to be solved. At first, the situation was slightly, then more immediately uncomfortable, as it turned outright to one not to be ignored.

Still, she tried - hard.

Alice groaned in frustration. After a half an hour pressing her thighs together, and thinking about anything else than this, she really had to go.

She reluctantly shifted her gaze from the night sky to the woodsman. He was there, on the other side of the glowing embers, soundly asleep, with his sword next to him, confident to let her be awake, bound with her wrists in front.

Earlier she tried to reach the rope with her mouth. It didn't work. The man had some skills, as they came to this clearing he sat her down and went to work on her bounds. Now when she wanted to lift her hands to her mouth, it was impossible, as she could get them up only to her breast height. The bastard bound her ankles to her wrists with a short rope. When her legs were stretched, her hands had to be relaxed in front of her, and when she wanted to drink, her legs had to be close to her chest — clever, clever, horrible man.

She stared at him and his sword.

Then she stared at the glowing embers separating them. Should she try and burn the rope?

And stared some more.

The situation was just hilarious - to death! Would she be able just to grab the hilt and… and… stab? Alice imagined how she would push the blade against his pliant skin. There would be no resistance. She assumed it would be like cubing the butter. Shivers run up her spine. For her freedom… would she do it? Or let the embers light him on fire?

Once again, she looked at the sleeping man and his weapon. No. She couldn't do it. Even the thought of trying was nauseating. How could she consider such an option? What was she thinking… she wasn't some animal clawing its way to freedom. This wasn't a life and death situation. At least not yet. Was it not?

However, the toilet situation was getting more urgent, so she slowly sat up on her heels, still observing the man in the reddish glow of dying embers.

He was still asleep.

Maybe crawling will work. At least to the edge of the clearing, and back. He wouldn't need to know. This would be fun. The darkness behind the small circle of light was menacing, something Alice unconsciously felt with her whole being.

Alice slowly moved away shuffling on all fours like a toddler learning to crawl with her feet bound; balancing her weight, the distance measured with the tautness of the rope of every slow move forward, not to let herself fall… she was bound to tumble, she knew it. And as she did, with her luck, she slipped on a nearby stone, yelping in pain. That was it for secrecy.

The woodsman was up in an instant. His steps measured as she followed the progress of his deep brown boots toward her. Crouching on his shanks, grabbing her hands, he pushed her to a sitting position.

Alice forgot to breathe.

"Going somewhere?" his face only several inches from hers.

She squeaked as he shook her, her breath returning to her in a whoosh.

"I mu-mu- must go to..." Alice stuttered, in her stupor, forgetting how to form coherent words.

"Must what?"

She jerked and squeezed her thighs together. "To piss..." Alice wheezed out. Personally, she wouldn't use such a word, but she doubted he would otherwise understand.

Unfazed with her choice of words, he laughed as within a minute he'd the rope around her ankles unbound. How did he do it? Standing her up, he shoved her to the direction of trees, as she stumbled.

"If you try to run away, know, that I will kill you," his voice was calm, and he looked so sure about it, she didn't try to contradict him. Alice had only one thing in mind really, when she crouched between the massive roots - to get through this embarrassment as quickly as possible.

At last, she adjusted her clothes minutes later; she leaned against the tree for support, her eyes closed. She felt emotionally and physically drained. If she wanted to survive this excuse for a human being, she had to get some more sleep.

Alice turned around ready to return to her seat when something stopped her in her tracks. She couldn't tell for sure what it was, but something was wrong. Alice stood motionless listening, watching... that goddamn gut feeling clenching her insides again. She looked up, the night sky was without stars and only a faint light from the moon penetrated through the greyish clouds. Then compulsively into the dark woods ahead. She felt like a frightened animal, keeping still, taunt, ready to leap at any sudden sound or movement. Dark shadows of trees stood black and tall against the backdrop, the treetops whispering against the howling wind.

Alice sighed tiredly. This whole situation had to be just her imagination. Everything was just a hallucination. Howling wind? What is she thinking?

Howling wind…

She didn't get it at first, made a few steps into the clearing spotting the woodsman standing still near the dying fire. Their eyes locked.

Howling wind.

How CAN wind howl?

How... it CAN'T.

Wolves howl.

Oh god, oh God, oh my GOD.

Wolves…

She broke into a run in God knows which direction. And then - a hard knock-down brought her back to her senses as the man jumped her, his weight pushing her down. Alice paid no attention to him as she tried to scan the shadows and bushes under the trees, scrambling without any real success from under him.

"Nothing there, "she wheezed finally. "There's nothing there! Oh, I am so stupid," she tittered.

But her laughter died down quickly when the first pair of great white eyes with black pupils emerged from the shadows. One, two, three... Huge eyes, hungry eyes. The wolves sniffled and growled, her stomach twisting into a tight knot.

Shrieking, she tried to scramble again from under him. A hard calloused hand around her mouth stifled her next cry. "Be silent, foolish girl." he hissed, his body taut radiating a silent warning. He waited sitting atop her until she gave a quick nod.

He released his hand from her mouth and dragged her roughly to the nearest tree. Alice didn't resist when he caught her around the waist and lifted her on the lowest branch.

"Climb higher and stay there. You must be silent. Do you understand woman?"

"Y- Yes."

"If you climb down, I will kill you myself or," he sneered "you will make a good distraction."

"Why are you not using me…" Oh God, she should just shut the fuck up, as he incredulously looked at her from the ground. But there wasn't the time for anything else as the shadows grew larger by the minute.

"I will stay up here." she just whispered.

"Good." He took his dagger and cut the rope on her wrists "Now climb higher. Don't come down until I tell you."

Alice just nodded as she focused on climbing. She was never good at it, and it didn't help that her hands were bound together for so long either. Her first attempt was a failure. When at last her back hit the trunk in the second half of the tree she was breathless, her hands sore and trembling. But her focus was turned to the man's dark silhouette, down on the ground.

The glowing embers hadn't provided enough light. Faint illusions, cast in dark shadows, moved. The man stood near the only source of light, a tall frame with broad shoulders, a strong stance. This wasn't his first fight. His sword drawn, he stood focused listening to the noises. The howling and horrible guttural growling of wolves were nearer. Goosebumps covered her exposed skin as she looked down. They rounded him, tightening the circle around the camp step by a careful step.

Now the man looked nearly heroic in his posture, so straight and strong. Alice didn't know if she was pleased he was there or despised him for everything he had done. His face so serenely calms and concentrated suddenly twisted with horrified realisation. She only barely was able to stifle a scream as the shadows parted and the creatures got into the dwindling light. Alice felt suddenly cold. These beasts were three or four times larger than an actual wolf, with long reddish fur and paws the size of bears with sharp claws. One of them opened its muzzle full of teeth to something resembling a sneer. The beast growled. To her ears, it sounded full of delight as it started to circle its prey.

What were they?

It wasn't like anything she ever saw. Imagining the most ghastly horror movie or just gruesome television news or the most explicit documentary about violence, it wouldn't give her this feeling of futility because that was that for the man. Alone against five or six of these beasts, there was no way he could survive it. And she? She was just rooted to the spot.

And it was getting worse.

The man below killed two of the beasts, his sword bloodied, his breath rasping in the momentary silence. And it was clear his strength was quickly fading; his swings were slower. He panted desperately for breath. Sweat formed on his face, and he wiped it off on his sleeve.

And she did nothing. She just sat there up in the tree watching.

For the woodsman, the short moment of distraction was fatal. A warg was on his right side, his teeth buried deeply into the man's flesh.

A cry of pain floated to the sky.

Alice couldn't tear her eyes from the scene below her. Her hand was pressed to her mouth to prevent her from crying out, and the other clutched a branch desperately, to anchor herself. She could feel her stomach twisting, swirling, and she didn't know how long she would bear it, not to throw up.

The wargs were all around him. His right leg was torn to the bone, and he fell to the ground. Blood sprayed the nearest beast, and it licked its muzzle.

He screeched as another warg, sank his teeth into his flesh and tore. Alice whimpered. She didn't want to see, to hear, or smell. But it was still there – around her, covering her in the horrible, terrifying stillness that followed after the man became unconscious.

The embers illuminated everything. Under the man was a pool of blood; a sticky, reddish-brown puddle that expanded with every second. She was transfixed watching it grow in size and be soaked into the black ground. Even the air smelled of it, coppery. That was the smell of death.

It took only one final grip of jaws, a resounding crack of a broken bone and then there was silence.

The only thing that was heard was chewing of flesh, crushing of bones and soft growls of beasts.

Alice couldn't move. The sounds from under the tree had her pinned to the tree trunk. Shivering from cold, fervently clutching the branch with her frozen fingers, Alice for the first time in her life earnestly prayed to God to save her, or at least, to not let her fall from the branch she clung to.

What else was there than to hold the tree trunk and wait the night out? Was there any other possibility? There, high up from the ground obscured from the view of the predators, was the only place she could be in. The time up there was endless. The hours went by painfully slowly, ticking away the upcoming dawn. Never before had she been afraid of the dark as she was now - it was too noisy, a cacophony of unknown sounds all wrong. After the wolves or whatever beasts they were, had left the clearing or she hoped, so they had had, the shadows came alive. Unfortunately, it wasn't the soothing clamour of traffic, barking dogs woken from their slumber, nor the footfalls and conversation of people passing by, returning to their homes after a night out. Alice wasn't expecting these noises in the wilderness, of course not, but the sound of the forest was foreign to her. All in all, it resonated somewhat different, alien in its own strange form, making her heart beat faster.

It was suffocating her.

Her breaths shallow, gasping.

Silent, she had to be silent.

Breathe in - not too loudly.

Breathe out - slowly, shakily.

Ah, but foremost quietly. The enveloping fear of being spotted by whatever predator passing by or being lured by the mayhem on the ground was immense. The dawn couldn't come up soon enough for her. At least, there will be light.

**\- IX -**

With the first light came a dreadful realisation, down on the ground laid the remains of the night's battle painted in rust and ruddy brown, and she would have to climb down eventually. Her cheeks felt suddenly colder as if all the blood drained from her face. From the night spent in constant alert, her mussels ached. She felt uncoordinated and as she looked down to inspect how high in reality she was a momentary feel of vertigo caught her off guard. Alice fumbled around trying to refocus and strengthen her hold on the slender branch above her to steady herself, hyperventilating up in the trees would do her no good. But her fingers were unresponsive, clumsy, slow. She wobbled, her body refused to cooperate. Scrambling Alice tried to anchor herself, scratched the branch and broke her fingernail. It hurt damn it. And with the pain, her faculties cleared somehow. At last, she scrambled closer and hugged the trunk, finding some stability, still queasy and shaky as she pushed her cold cheek against its bark.

  
She would have to climb down or stay put in the tree. Who knew when this hallucination would end. The last one lasted a day or two? She couldn't properly remember. This one, a day and a half approximately. It would be beneficial to jot down the times and dates. She should show them to a psychologist when she wakes up. Where this stupid idea came from anyway? Alice shuddered. No psychologists. They will try and get into your head and tell you there is something wrong with you, a Child trauma, or some other bullshit for which you will pay a horrible amount of money. She was fine. There was nothing wrong with her. This is just exhaustion manifesting in wild realistic dreams. She has to just wake up.

  
Has she tried to wake up? No. So maybe there goes nothing. How was it? You have to realise you are in a dream. Ok, she was in a dream, this was a dream. Believe it, understand it. Close eyes. Done. And now open. Nothing. After the fifth attempt, Alice stopped. This was a stupid, wasteful idea from the beginning. Disappointment tightened her gut, or was it the realisation she would have to climb down after all?

  
A wild idea struck her as she focused on the opposite tree not far from her. She looked around, assessing trees closest to her. Maybe jumping from the lower much burlier branches on to the next one would be possible? Yup, really clever. She should break her neck right away or horribly maim herself than the beasts from the night could come and finish her off. Really clever. And what would she accomplish? She huffed gnawing on her broken fingernail to get it off. She spat it out, licking and gently sucking on the wound to elevate the remaining pain. There she should stop to be such a coward and climb down albeit slowly. She was too high.

  
Alice refused to look, standing, her white face turned towards the tree trunk, eyes studiously gazing at the ridged surface, she was petrified. It was enough that she had to deal with the stench. Her hand covering her nose, Alice tried to breathe through her mouth, but the air she sucked in was sweet, tasting like too ripe, almost decaying, fruits.

The tightness in her gut didn't ease; if anything, it constricted even more. Her mind commanded her to flee from the glade and never come back, never turn around, just run as far as she was able to away from this place, but her legs refused to fulfil the command, turning to jelly. Shivering, horror-stricken Alice realised she was curious, absurdly, morbidly curious about the results of the clash between the forest predators with their sharp teeth and strong claws and the man who wielded only a medieval weapon for his protection. And even though she knew that he was dead, ripped to pieces, nought but food for the beasts, she was still inquisitive. As baffling as this new realisation was for her, what does it make her, to want to see the torn remains of a human being or the carcasses of the fallen beasts, she had to move, to turn around, to decide the next course of action. Unconsciously she knew she shouldn't, mustn't stay in this place for long as the beasts may return and finish their prey.

Finally, she turned around, very, very, very slowly.

Her body started to shiver, tremors running up and down her spine, and then her whole frame wracked violently when she saw it whole.

Oh, dear God. She shouldn't have done it. It was too much…

Too much…

And she was doubled over retching, violently. The yellowish liquid was running through her nose and mouth, and she was gasping huge gulps of air to level her churning stomach.

"Shit, fucking hell." her throat was clogged, voice croaky. Her swearing didn't help to vent her fear and the horrible guttural disgust that welled inside of her as she was unable to peel her eyes off the scene.

The ground beneath her feet was soaked with blood. Actually, everything around her was drenched in a dark, muggy brownish colour - new green grass leaves from last year, even the trunk of the nearest tree.... she quickly turned away, because on its base was a bunch of ... she really did not want to know what it was. It looked like a piece of chewed intestines. Her now empty stomach did a flip-flop, and once again she was doubled over dry heaving.

She should breathe.

She should breathe - slowly.

One intake through her mouth, then slowly, so slowly, releasing the breath.

Good. It should work. It had to work.

Alice desperately tried not to think about the woodsman who lay only a few feet from her. Around him, three slain beasts – she hadn't seen anything like them in her whole life. They were huge, eyes glassy, unseeing; the blood dried on their reddish fur and torn flesh, made an image that rivalled one of Salvador Dali's works. Fear ebbed in her, set deep down in her gut. She did not know if she should laugh or cry it out. She could not look away; it was so obscene and vivid she couldn't rid herself from the image before her just watching.  
At first, she didn't hear it or see it. It was just a feeling that tore her away from looking at the dead beasts.  
She froze mid breath.

From the corner of her eye, she caught a subtle motion. Did she imagine things? Not another… surely there's no one alive… please not…

Her head slowly turned in the direction - there, on the ground, laid a killed female. The man's sword cut her stomach open. However, she moved again. No, not moved - the animal twitched and then again, and Alice panicked. She felt the soft hairs on her neck and arms stood up, cold sweat trickling down her spine.  
Shit!

She looked in horror as the stomach of the beast moved. And then she heard it - the sound that reminded her of bubbling and gurgling. Fresh blood dripped - or, more likely - drizzled. Was it even possible? Fresh blood from the animal, which is several hours dead? The bubbling sound was getting more intense and with it the soft stream of sticky mass, which turned into a flowing substance of intestines, excrements, and something...

Finally, she recognised what it was - a dead puppy.

Dead puppy!

Alice turned and staggered to a nearby tree. Her frame broke, and she heavily dropped to her knees - her shivering progressed to convulsions - her whole body gave way. Minutes passed in silence, the only thing that indicated the passing of the time, was the sun climbing from behind the trees. She sat leaning against the tree trunk, exhausted. Was it still today, or was it tomorrow? It felt like an age had passed from dawn. What should she do? Should she leave like that? What about the beasts or other predators around? She had no idea where she was. The only thing she knew, she wanted to get home to mum.

With her head between her knees, she tried to calm herself. It seemed like for the hundredth time these past days. At first… should she call it kidnapping? That man had been…

He had been… she felt like being underwater. Her thoughts were sluggish and disoriented. But the man had to know where they were. He wouldn't drag them like that through the wilds, would he?

The man had known where he was going.

Maybe he has some things to help her out. Maybe a phone? Her phone? Anything? Stupid wistful thinking idea but… what if it was true?

A morbid excitement surged in her. One moment she was desperate, aggravated and the next moment the only thing she could think about was about Dragon Age Origins or any other game her brother chose to play and the looting after a successful kill.

Alice barked.

Hysterically laughing at the idea, she would have to search the remains and belongings of the dead man. She was actually cackling, like a madwoman. As abruptly as she started, she stopped. A grim determination fell over her as she slowly crawled near the fallen man.

The dark green material of his cloak was relatively clean, so she picked it up. It will keep her warm. Warm - yes it seemed she needed it the most now, as the tremors didn't relent. She huddled in it and only then she opened the bag next to it.

Searching through it.

Frantically throwing out things.

Turning it upside down.

Finding nothing of importance.

Around her lay a few old dirty shirts, a bottle of the disgusting water he forced her to drink yesterday and a piece of leather.

Alice cried.

No phone.

No map.

No food.

No water.

Nothing significant.

She cried even harder, rocking herself up and down, still clutching the leather. As she threw the tightly bound piece on the ground, she realised it was bound!

Alice tried to slip the binding off; undo the binding with her nails easing the knot; using her teeth to break it, but the knot didn't relent. She needed a knife and the only one available was the dagger the woodsman had to have.

At first, she froze on the spot. Who in their right mind would like to go inspect half-eaten fresh corpse if he didn't need something? But dawdling would bring her nothing. Alice gulped and stood on her shaky legs, slowly walking in the direction where he was, the cloak getting in her way, her steps heavy and hesitant. She really didn't want to go there, to see what was left of him.

Now here were the beasts and beyond them, the man.

Ten steps left…

Six steps…

Four…

Reluctantly, she looked down to examine him, and the need to throw up was imminent.

The smell of blood and other bodily fluids, the meat hanging in strips, and broken bones created a mass that only yesterday was a living and breathing human being. And all of a sudden Alice felt responsible somehow. She didn't understand it and had no strength left to ponder why. The feeling was there, gnawing on her, and she did the only thing she was able to do. She stopped thinking, telling herself she would deal with it later. Later, when she would be home, later when she would be away from this meadow, from the cadavers, away from this stench, back at home - safe.

In a haze, Alice found the dagger, with it a small flask of water and she staggered back to the tightly bound leather and cut the knot, staring at the content. She didn't know if an hour passed by or just a few minutes. It was sometime later when she finally shrugged herself of the stupor and tried to focus.

Alice looked dumbstruck.

It was a map.

A map she didn't recognise, neither the continent nor the writings on this had to be a joke in some twisted way. Was she in some kind of video game? If she killed herself right now, would she respawn? Or was she just crazy?. Or…

No, she didn't want to spend the time pondering it here. Alice had had enough of this place. Home… didn't matter how, but she wanted to go home and to sit around wouldn't help her. She needed to find people and a city and a phone and some food and…

Alice stood and grabbed the bag, tossed in the map, the bottle, tied it, and flung it over her shoulder. She nearly forgot the dagger; Alice picked it up and hid it beneath the cloak. On the second thought, she took the string as well.

Walking through the meadow, she crossed the forest line and never looked back. Not once.

However, after crossing the treeline she had to admit to herself she didn't remember from which direction they had come, didn't know where the river was, and it took her eternity to at least hear its roar in the distance.

It was past midday, and Alice only now realised how hungry she was. Unfortunately, there was nothing to eat. The only edible things that she found were strawberries – at least she hoped they were strawberries, they looked like ones.

The afternoon found her hungrier than ever, tired and oh just so thirsty, the small flask contained only a few gulps of stale water, trying to solve the problem of where to go. She opened the map and once again attempted to understand it. The mountains were on her left hand and behind her, the river on her right hand a little bit in the distance but she still heard the sound of rushing water, the forest on her left hand. But in which direction should she turn the map or in which region she was, Alice had no idea.

Too thirsty, she opted for the river, and maybe tomorrow she will find the way around. What else was there to do anyway? The river at least would provide her with water if anything else. Maybe she could go fishing, even though she didn't know exactly how.

What she remembered from her high school teacher's history lectures wasn't much. But what he always said and emphasised over and over again with his strong, captivating voice, was that the cities were always built near rivers for their water supply. Somehow satisfied with her reasoning, she felt more focused. She wasn't wandering without purpose, and Alice always needed a goal to get herself working.

**X.**

Finally water! Leaning against the riverbank, she washed her hands, then her face and the next thing she knew, she was back at Paul's in his expensive bathroom looking at the mirror.

"What…" Alice felt a vortex of swirling emotions turning her insides to mush - dangerously quickly she got sick.

Violently.

One second she stood in front of the mirror, the next she locked the doors in a swift movement and was sitting on the toilet seat as her bowls gave way in a rush of cramps leaving her doubled over clutching her knees.

What is this? Her whole body shook with violent tremors. It took all her effort to clean herself with shaking hands and get dressed. Alice felt inexplicably weak. All her strength had left her body.

Someone knocked on the door.

She whined a pitiful high sound that she couldn't stifle. When one was out, another followed in quick successions, and she broke trembling to the ground in front of the sink, her legs unable to support her.

The knock was insistent. "Alice?" Paul's voice muffled with the doors separating them called to her. "Can I come in? Are you all right?"

Alice drew a shuddering breath, trying to stand or to move. She couldn't and sobbed. "I can't move," she made frightening hiccuping sounds, and her body shook.

"Unlock the door, Alice," Paul called to her.

"I can't" she whined and tried again to stand up.

"Open the door. There's nothing to be angry about."

Tremors were wracking her whole frame. Centimetre after centimetre she crawled to the door panting, finally able to unlock it.

And Paul was through the door, ready to give her a piece of his mind, only to find Alice with her head bowed on the cool tiles, shaking uncontrollably. Her face, when she lifted her head, was tear-stained. She looked at him from under her lashes helplessly, still violently shaking.

The next thing she knew, she was hoisted into his arms and carried to the nearby sofa. She heard him calling for Hana. Her head spun, unable to focus; she just huddled into the corner. Only later in the week, Hana would tell her how Paul had carried her to the taxi, her form covered in one of his more expensive blankets closing the doors on both of them, as the car sped up to her home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, I am sorry Mr. Cumberbatch. I really adore you <3 I hope you will forgive me for such a twist on your name. 
> 
> And poor Alice. That was tough on her. And what about her friends? Who is likeable? Who less?
> 
> As always leave me your thoughts, your comments. Any fallacies in the text. I still need a beta reader. :D Any volunteers?


	3. If you don’t know where you are going any road can take you there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back from the summer reverie. Hard at work to push this chapter through on the last day of August. And it happened. Yay!
> 
> Enjoy, and once again let me know what you think.

**Arc I.**

**Chapter III.**

**\- XI -**

Doctors' diagnosis: exhaustion with accompanying lament on the unhealthy lifestyle of young people these days. It couldn't happen in his youth as they were all healthy as oxen, people spending their days outside hiking or doing sports, not cooped up behind computers, at parties or what else. Alice only rolled her eyes when no one was looking. To argue would be just too much of an effort, so she conveniently let it slide. The GP has prescribed her some replenishments and nourishments with at least a week's bed rest with a full package of medication. After that, she was advised to visit for further check-up. 

From the accident forward everyone was fussing over her, especially mum. It was exhausting.

Alice lay in bed, looking at the ceiling. Her room bathed in the morning sun, looked the same as any other day this early. This time, however, it made her sick, just to look at the bright, cheerful room. Her head throbbed as if someone had stuffed her like a plush toy to the bursting with wool. It had to be the pills. Lexaurin? Really? And she should take it for ten days, three times per day? What a shitty situation. 

But the opposite wasn't an option. Alice had tried sneakily throwing the first two doses into the toilet, persuaded the GP was just a little bit off with his diagnosis. Why would she need such strong medication from just collapsing onto the bathroom floor? She was merely overworked. It was ridiculous. 

Of course, her head started to buzz like a hive of angry bees. All those gut-wrenching emotions took over her body. She couldn't close her eyes of fear, what hallucinations she would see. Fortunately, everything was buried under a blank space of dullness.

A knock on her door was followed with quick steps of her mum. The reassuring sound of click-clacking heels filled the room. It was strange how this small sound could sometimes bring uneasiness, but most of the time relief as her mother's steps echoed down the hall in the morning as she hurried to work. Pushing herself up, Alice sat, sluggishly as the mug was pressed into her hands.

"Mum no, I don't want it. I am not thirsty." Alice dragged her syllables out, frustrated her words were slurred. 

"Drink it, it's chamomile tea, it will soothe you." Her hand swept the hair from Alice's forehead, feeling her temperature. "I have to go now. We have an evening staff meeting as well so I will be back around eight."

"Ok."

"Don't watch too much TV, or be on your computer. Sleep. The doctor said you should rest."

"I know."

"I mean it, sleep! Don't read." Her tone was stern as she ushered her warning, her kiss gentle on her forehead. "Dad will come around six. Be good."

"I am not a small kid anymore."

"I know, I know. I told Victor to check on you around lunch." was accompanied with a sharp clicking of heels. "Don't forget to take your medicine. They are on the counter." her mum called from the hall. "And you have chicken and rice in the fridge. Eat at least something."

"Ok, I will." Her voice wavered. These three days from the "accident" as she started to call it were taxing. She lacked the stamina to respond to even the simplest of questions. Her head was heavy as she sipped on the tea, obediently as a good child. Afterwards, she would sleep. 

Her days and nights were filled with sleep, her parents bringing her small portions of food to bed. She had to look like a shit that they let her huddle in her blankets, codling her, even Victor. Day on, a day off. Indigestion and nausea were only one of her problems, the more troubling was her drowsiness and slurred speech. She felt lightheaded, unsteady even that she finally picked up her mobile and called her doctor. He was dismissive. These were common side effects from taking such strong medications, and she should rest as much as possible, and read the accompanying package leaflet. 

Six days in and she was fed up with the whole experience. 

Sitting in freshly changed bed sheets smelling of sun and fabric softener, Alice ate bland rice looking sleepily at the lines 'I seem to have walked right into the thick of a dime novel.' Alice looked at the text again.

 _'... He was carefully examining the foolscap, upon which the words were pasted, holding it only an inch or two from his eyes._

_"Well?"_

_"Nothing," said he, throwing it down. "It is a blank half-sheet of paper, without even a water-mark upon it. I think we have drawn as much as we can from this curious letter; and now, Sir Henry, has anything else of interest happened to you since you have been in London?"_

_"_ _Why, no, Mr Holmes. I think not."_

 _"_ _You have not observed anyone follow or watch you?"_

 _"_ _I seem to have walked right into the thick of a dime novel," said our visitor. "Why in thunder should anyone follow or watch me?"….'_

Sir Henry was right. It was all preposterous. Why in thunder should anyone abduct her? She pushed herself hard this whole summer, three months from school, and she needed to get a job fast. She was twenty-five and still living with her parents. Not that they had any problem with it, not that she had any qualms about it. It seemed mum just preferred it this way, as Victor always went and was gone on holiday in France, work in London, study at CalTech, following his path. His determination frightened her most of the time. 

The book thudded to the ground, The Hound of the Baskervilles, one of her more favourites crashing face down rustling pages getting crinkled. Her hands shook. Four more days and she would be rid of the medication, the doctor would conclude she is fit, and that would be it. The Lexaurin and vitamins should do the trick. 

The timer set on Alice's mobile buzzed, reminding her to take another dose. Where the time flew, Alice was not so sure as she dragged herself to the kitchen. There neatly on the top of the counter sat her pills with a written text from mum, as always instructing what should she do. Taking the medications and gulping down the water, Alice had suddenly the urge to disappear. From this world, this home, to be someone else, somewhere else. What a useless thought - why was she thinking it anyway? Reading her mum's note, she struggled back to bed. She should at least get the washing machine on from the small list of tasks mum had left her. Maybe afterwards, after her nap. Alice buried herself under the covers, disappearing from the world. At least for the time being. At least for now. 

On Sunday, the doors to her room burst open with a loud bang. "Alice, we are here!" 

"Viktoria, Jesus Crist do you want to give me a heart attack on top of this?" 

"Hello, darling. How are you feeling?" Paul sat on the corner of the bed. He looked as always meticulous. "Do you like my Sunday clothes chosen especially for you?"

"What?" he leaned closer, and Alice caught a whiff of cologne he wore. Too sweet. 

"Here, we brought you a get well basket." Suzan leaned against her work table, her eyes darting between Alice and Paul.

"Ah, thank you. Where is Hannah?" too many people crammed into her small room made Alice's head spin. Concentrating on one or the other was a chore. 

"It's the weekend. Family business as always." Tibor walked into Alice's room and sat on the floor opposite her bed. "We talked your mum into letting us visit. You look like shit."

"Thanks. A girl appreciates your forwardness." Alice said dryly. "The pills are doing their job at least. You should have warned me you are coming, and I would at least combed my hair to your satisfaction."

"It wouldn't be a surprise then, would it?. You frightened us, you know." Paul leaned closer, scrutinizing her. "Next time, tell me you are not feeling well."

"Uh, ok." he was too close for comfort, Alice shied away, leaning against the headboard of her bed. The heaviness lingered persistently, a thick curtain, too heavy to push away pulled around her mind, it made thinking hard. 

"Now, come here." Viki pulled insistently, dragging Paul down the bed. "We should open the get well basket, no? I saw delicious looking chocolate there. Fairtrade chocolate Paul? Was it your or Hannah's idea?"

It was refreshing to have them around, even for a short while. The monotonous days filled with sleep and dull wakefulness had been too long. But of course, there was a limit to which mum would allow them to visit. Soon enough they were ushered away, one by one they said their goodbyes with Paul leaning closer, giving her a soft peck on her cheek. "I will text you."

"Ok," she muttered.

Tibor stood against the light as she lifted her eyes to him, a dark silhouette in the setting sun. It was only a moment, but as he extended his hand to her a flashback of the woodsman grabbing her was all she could see. Her body reflexively jerked backwards. Adrenaline rushing through her veins, her heart pumping the blood twice as fast than usual made her head spin. On top of the pills, she thought she would go to a cardiac arrest. She had to have a stricken expression on her face as Tibor halted his advance." Alice, are you all right?"

Her breath caught in her throat. "Yes, ugh, yes I am, I am fine. My stomach started hurting." His stare lingered and Alice fumbled with her words "I took the pills a while ago. These are normal side effects. It will pass." His hand was so close. "I will eat something bland, and it will pass. Say hello to Hannah from me." She tried to smile to ease the tension.

He smirked. "I have a better idea. Text her." He looked at her once again, searchingly. "We will see each other next week. Take it easy."

"Yes, yes I will." and they were gone. Her heart was still uncomfortably racing in her chest. What was that?

At the end of the medication period, she felt reasonably good. Her muscles didn't hurt anymore, the phantom feeling of skin rubbed raw was gone, and the pills did the rest. Nevertheless, she got up again before sunrise. Her insomnia started somewhere at the end of the week. She kept staring into the darkroom, tossing and turning, unable to sleep. As the leaflet stated this as one of the more common side effects of Lexaurin, she just let it slide. What else was to do than endure it? 

Another morning found her sitting on the kitchen's balcony, and the weather was warm; a heatwave was on its way. 

"Girl, you look like you've seen a ghost." Andrea cocked her head to the side, and Alice, startled, nearly fell from her chair.

"Andrea!" Alice gulped in a lungful of air, steadying herself. 

"Feeling better? I heard the job hunting got you bad. I had thought that's a little bit unbelievable, but well, you look run down dear." 

"You are not the first to tell me," Alice muttered darkly, as she looked up at her. The older woman sat down in her bright turquoise bathrobe on her upholstered armchair, holding a fashionable coffee set. Her coffee service was set on a marrocan table. "Would you like some?" she gestured towards the cups.

Alice accepted, even if it meant to converse this early in the morning. 

"Who was talking?" Alice took the mug full of steaming black coffee.

"You know, here and there. Wouldn't the coffee upset your stomach? It's bitter." 

Alice shrugged. "It was Victor, wasn't he?" 

Andrea smiled. "What happened?" 

"What should have happened," Alice took a sip. "I collapsed on the floor of Paul's bathroom." What else should she say anyway? 

"I think I am just afraid I won't get a job." Alice sighed. 

She wouldn't expect Andrea to understand. She would never work for any corporations anyway. Andrea was too independent and abhorred companies, thinking they only chewed you for a short time and spat you out, as if you hadn't given them everything. Maybe some, but what should she do, when free positions in politology studies, or administrative in urbanistry were few and without contacts, you were left more than not unemployed. 

Alice shrugged. 

And Andrea leaned closer to her, her breasts squashed against the railing. "Come on I will give you a card reading for free. Just for you." Alice caught unprepared, accepted.

"Let's meet in an hour or so. When you are ready," she winked, "I want to enjoy the sunrise." her breath left her in a long sigh as she looked beyond the buildings to the horizon "I wish to be by the sea watching this."

Andrea opened her door, letting Alice in. Second coffee in hand, steaming hot, she delicately sipped on it, feeling content for a while.

"Sit down." Andrea urged her to her round table in her lavishly furnished living room. It looked more like a cosy oriental harem section of a sultan's palace. Cushions of many colours littered the long threaded oriental carpet. A divan in vibrant red was pushed against a wall, in front of it was an expensive-looking coffee table on curved legs. They sat behind a round ebony table inlaid with a mosaic in the middle of the room. A fragrance of incense wafted to her. It wasn't at all unpleasant. 

Andrea sat comfortably opposite her, her turquoise robe bunching around her mid-thighs, showing her shapely well-muscled legs. She looked like she belonged into this place she created for herself, or to another time past gone. Alice looked at her, lost in a contemplative mood. 

"Alice, if you are tired, go rest on the ottoman." 

She jerked out of her reverie. "Sorry, sorry. I am out of it most of the time."

Andrea smiled. "That will pass after today. Didn't you mention last night it was your last dosage?"

"Did I say that?"

"Now concentrate, let me do the reading. I think we can sort things out for you when you want."

Alice sighed inwardly. She wasn't really into this. Rather she didn't give a damn about the reading, but as she was here, she couldn't tell her outright down, could she? Andrea could get insulted, and then their friendly relationship would be in jeopardy, wouldn't be? So, let the ordeal begin.

Alice smiled. "Yes, but I have to tell you this is my first time. I have no idea what to do."

"Relax, close your eyes and slowly breathe in, then out. Plant your feet firmly on the ground. Let yourself be rooted to the earth. Imagine it. And breathe in, and out, feel the connection to the mother earth. Feel the warmth…" Her words carried on making Alice drowsy. It was surprisingly relaxing. Andrea's voice was low, hypnotizing, she breathed in, imagining how her feet took root into the earth. Or maybe the pills did the job, she thought distractedly as she listened further in.

"Breathe in, relax, breath out, and now think of a question you want to ask. Think deeply, have it on your mind all the time. Feel it in you. You want to know the answer. Now open your eyes."

Andrea had laid all the cards in front of them. "Do not let your question slip your mind. Do not talk to me. Just concentrate and turn ten cards. Let yourself be guided." 

Her voice lulled her to comply. Alice turned the cards, slowly, one by one. It felt strange, almost as if someone had guided her to turn the cards. What was, of course, nonsense. As she finished, she looked expectantly up.

Andrea was frowning at the cards as she put them into the correct order. "Tell me what your question was?"

Alice hesitated. She couldn't tell her the truth, so she lied. "I was asking about my job." 

"Really?" Andrea looked at the cards once again. On the position of her outcome sat Ten of swords and the future occupied King of Wands. "Didn't you ask about your future?" 

"Maybe I wasn't that specific about my job." Alice wouldn't get past her lips, she thought about the hypothetical woodsman with the hypothetical wolves big as horses and her scavenger hunt through the remains of a dead man. Andrea would be nosy if anything else.

The woman opposite her didn't look persuaded. She was somewhat sceptical, her eyebrows knitting together. Andrea leaned closer. "So you want to know about your future?"

"Is it so uncommon?"

"Most people ask specific questions. Did you ask one?"

"I asked about the job," Alice answered coolly.

"A second ago, you told me you wanted a future reading?"

"Isn't it the same?"

"These cards don't lie. Do you know what this one means?" Andrea fingered the corner of the Tower card in the slot reserved for goals and destiny. "It warns you that your goals hang on a thread: loss and ruin, Alice. If you do not do what is right, it will bring destruction upon you. So, tell me what the question was. I can help you to find your centre. The past few weeks, you looked jaded." 

Andrea's voice was hypnotic, persuading her, coaxing her to tell her the truth. And then Alice closed herself down, feigning indifference. Yes, she was curious, but she would not allow the woman to trick her in such a blatant way. 

Andrea continued. "Do you want to know the outcome? What about these two kings, could they be your lovers? Good friends?" She teased. "One could be accepting, and the other let's say more…."

"I don't want to hear it. I am going back… Alice stood abruptly. In her haste, she overturned the porcelain cup and its remaining content spilt on the cards as she fled, opening the front doors.

**\- XII -**

No.

Not again.

No, no, no, no no… 

This was a nightmare — a horrendous one.

What was this all about? Why was she here under the scorching sun again? How to get back? There was no pattern to her hallucinations. In helplessness, she beat her hands against the wet black soil of the riverbank. Frustration coiled in her like a snake ready to choke her. 

Her wrists throbbed. The marks of rope visible, unhealed. But the body was her own. How was it even possible?  
  
What should she do? For long moments she stared into the flowing river watching it flow until the sun was getting lower, elongating her shadow.  
  
Then with a sigh, she straightened. The sun shone with relentlessness on the vast steppe stretching to the distance around the river, giving her no clue, no answer to her questions.  
  
She felt resignation creeping like a shadow into her soul, and she started walking downstream.

**\- XIII -**

The small column of smoke turned into several pillars of greyish whiffs as she slowly closed the distance to the dubious source of her salvation. To find this town nestled in the valley, where the river curved southward, was just pure luck and nothing more. At least in this, she wouldn't - mustn't fool herself.

The terrain changed, and Alice was staggering on the outer side of what looked like a cornfield. Her hand rose from its own accord to caress the grains. Stopping, she looked at the field, its light warm golden glow and the full-grain swinging slightly in the breeze. And she stood there and watched how the shadows slid from the distant hills down the slopes, covering it in darkness.

Another night in this strange hallucination. What else could it be?

Beyond fields, the pathway turned into a paved road. It appeared used. The ground was trampled and carved by deep imprints of wagon wheels. There, in the distance, against the dark backdrop of the night, the even darker silhouette of a wall presented itself.

Alice yawned as she stood in front of the door and fought her fatigue, trying to collect herself. Her hands were shaking and the courage and happy hopefulness she felt only seconds before fled and left an only weariness in their wake.

The wall before her was solid, but it was so dark she couldn't tell from what it was made. And frankly, she couldn't care less. Why should she? Finally, here before her was a town. Her dull sound of knocking echoed once, twice …

From the other side of the door, she heard a soft shuffling of steps. Her heartbeat sped up. She wished for a policeman or whoever guarded these gates, and she would finally get a decent explanation, call home and get a decent meal, bed and shower. Yes, definitely a shower - or two. Alice could just feel the hot water running down her shoulders. And she would wash her hair and then sleep in a bed. 

A window in the middle of the door opened. A pair of dark eyes looking hollow in the light of a lamp eyed her up and down, unfriendly, wary, watching. This man plastered his face on the window; his greasy hair was falling in sticky strands into his eyes, and the smell wafting towards her was unbearable.

Alice instinctively backed a step away.

"What do you want?" a throaty slightly hissing voice spoke to her. "What is your business here?"

She tried to breathe through her mouth.

"What do you want? Speak up! What business brings you to Blackacre?" the gate-keeper was getting impatient.

"Sir I … "Alice took another shallow breath through her mouth. "I… I got lost, and I am looking for accommodation. It is getting late…" her voice faltered. How to get through him? Oh, why she couldn't just close and open her eyes and be back. What was the trigger of these hallucinations of hers? She would bang her head on the door if she didn't look like a lunatic to that man on the other side.

"For accommodation?" he didn't understand it seemed.

"Yes for accommodation - for shelter, some inn or hotel, "Alice explained tiredly, refraining from rubbing the bridge of her nose in frustration. "I got lost on the road and…" she stopped herself; else she was bound to spill her guts to the shabby-looking man whose dental hygiene was tragic.

"So lass, lost, eh?" he sneered, and the door swung slowly open.

A dirty face and toothless smile welcomed her as the man stepped aside beckoning for her to hurry. "Come, come lass. The door must be secured. Cannot be too careful, can we?" The gate closed behind her with a crack and clicking of the door latches. For a second, she felt trapped.

"You need a bed, eh?" the man asked her still grinning and his face contorted into a curiously lascivious sneer. He was getting too close for her liking. What was the old geezer thinking?

Alice straightened, her face going blank. "Yes mister, I need a place to stay through the night. Can you tell me where I can find a hotel or inn?" Her tone was polite, posture rigid, her head held high, trying to put an invisible barrier of status between the two of them. It worked on men such as Paul's friends, and indeed she could get this man off of her heels. 

He was grinning. "We have only two inns, lassie. Rooster Inn is at the end of this road," he pointed to the street curving left from the gate's door and took a step closer, "and The Devils Head. It is this way, only turn on the second street right." And he was standing next to her. She held her breath, oh God, that smell was horrible. "Or you can stay with me, lassie. Here... "his hands tried to sneak around her waist.

She straightened even more.

"Thank you for your advice. I will be off now." And without thinking Alice fled down the street leading to the Rooster Inn, not looking back.

She never imagined a town could be so neglected. It looked derelict, without asphalt or even cobblestone roads, no infrastructure. It was like bloody middle ages here.

She stumbled to the side, nearly hitting a cage holding a torch. "What... "Alice didn't finish as the man turned at, hearing her voice. His glare plastered her to the side of a building, trying to blend with it.

What was just that? Please, she silently begged to let her go back. I want to wake up from this nightmare. For a second she shut her eyes tightly, counting to ten, opening them, nothing. It still didn't work.

The sign, old and faded, welcomed her to the Rooster Inn. It would be better than to stay outside – surely! She pushed the door open...

… and nearly choked. Smoke was curling even around her ankles as she gasped for breath.

The room was small, tables crammed too close to each other with a dozen men sitting or standing around. They were greasy and unwashed; their eyes glossy from inebriation now bored into her, a predatory smile on more than one bearded face.

Alice nearly tripped over a wooden chair as she backed away, her heart beating so fast she couldn't catch her breath. And she ran, tripping over her legs, holding the cloak out of its way, stopping only near the side street of the second inn, catching her breath in gulps. This was crazy. What was this all about? She couldn't grasp the concept of it all.

In the dark of the street, she huddled into the cloak once again, covering her too bright hair with the hood. The roads around here were empty, and when she thought about it, the town itself was looking empty. Houses that stood alongside the streets appeared abandoned, without lights or any signs of life.

Devil's Head was a quiet place with a yard. Or it seemed so from the outside of the street. At the right of the courtyard were the towering shadows of the stable and a barn with domestic animals chewing their hay in comfortable stalls. Somehow, these sounds were pleasant, something homely and inviting. On the other side, more centred was a double-decked house with a veranda dotted with the flickering lights of petrol lamps hanging from the billets holding the extended roof. The whole feeling was one of orderly place, if not the cleanest one, something entirely different from the previous encounter.

She looked up at the double-door entrance gate and at the green field shield, on which a head of a black dog with red eyes was painted; under it stood, in a flourished writing "The devils head".

The sign swung lightly in the chilly night air. The street was empty, illuminated only by one torch placed on the other side of the "Devils Head" sign. It was just scary, maybe scarier than outside in the woods. Alice unconsciously looked behind her then left and right to ensure no one was following her. For one night - dammit, for her whole life - she had had enough excitement. But the tightening of her chest didn't loosen up; she felt like being followed, being watched from the dark. And the memory of eyes, great white eyes with dark pupils watching, glowing under the moonlight struck her with a full force, urging her to open the door and cross the yard in brisk steps to the main building of the Devil's Head Inn. 

She was out of breath when she stepped onto the veranda, hesitating. She didn't dare to live through the same experience as minutes ago in the Rooster Inn. So she huddled lower, tiptoeing to the nearest window cast in shadows, away from the lamps and peered inside through the unwashed glass, thanking silently to whomever who hadn't cared for cleaning the windows properly. 

The noises coming from inside were quieter, less boisterous and the silent murmuring of deep male voices and a high, but not unpleasant laughter, which belonged to a woman, filled her with warmth. Alice listened and watched, carefully peeking into the room, the voices muffled but still audible.

"They are drinking too much" a woman huffed with dislike as her guests had asked for another round. She was older, maybe around fifty, rounded with ample breasts and wide hips.

"Men, I want to close before midnight. Do you hear me, Valter?" She exclaimed to the group sitting around a huge oak table in the centre of the room. As she passed the window, Alice heard a tired sigh: "I am too old for this." The landlady walked through the half-empty room to deliver the next round of beer, her lips thinning even further with displeasure.

"Oh come on Marta, it is only the third round. Nothing bad will happen!" a red-cheeked, stubby, elderly man, spoke to her in a mild tone.

"Only the third round, you say? And who will help me?" her lips were pressed into a tight line. Grasping a tea towel the chubby woman tried to hit him with it; the innkeeper's round belly only shook with laughter.

"Oh come on Marta." He extended his hand, tugging her down to sit on his knees. His ardent kisses to her cheeks brought her to laughing, and men around the table returned to their previous conversation.

"When will the caravan from Minas Tirith come? What news from the rangers that stayed yesterday." A young man, maybe in his early twenties, asked in anticipation.

Valter, still embracing his wife, smiled. The caravan from Minas Tirith presented for Blackacre an opportunity for trade and cultural exchange. The inn would be packed with men, hobbits and when they would be lucky dwarfs; for the elves to come, he hasn't dared to hope or even wish.

More importantly, the occasion for the nearby villages to come and participate in the market opening will allow for the few coins to be earned and circulate. Maybe the caravan would leave with their goods packed and leave behind finer or rarely accessible wares. Spice... and Valter stared for a while at the table counting how much would such a pack of peppers cost. 

It was a while that any of the larger caravans had passed by. The only visitors for the last two years were locals and sometimes rangers who only slipped in and out bringing scarce news from distant lands and the capital. 

"The lad wants to buy a present for Beatrice." Valter looked up, at last, smiling at the reddening young man as his friend in shabby clothes uttered this piece of information, chuckling.

"Hmm! When will you ask her to marry you? I think it's time to get you under the cauls, son."

"I… I will… soon…" he stuttered as he looked everywhere else except at his father.

The man laughed and patted his youngest on the shoulder.

Alice stopped listening. She grimaced, idle chatter and nothing essential to go by. It wasn't the promising beginning she had hoped for. Her stomach rumbled, but she refused to abandon her position under the windowsill, the main hall was still crowded for her liking for her just to pop in.

**\- XIV -**

She hadn't been expecting it. 

And it hurt as she laid sprawled on the hard wooden floor of the main chamber, the few eyes left in the room focused on her. Alice cursed the long cloak silently, scrambling to the sitting position trying to collect herself. She was the main attraction for the time being.

That would leave bruises, damn it! She examined her scratched palms, not daring to roll up her trousers with the men around, only glanced upwards when the chubby female approached her. Alice felt her cheeks flaming in embarrassment.

"Oh dear, are you alright?" the woman purred in her best tone of welcome but stopped short when she recognized Alice for what she was - a woman. It wasn't common to have a young female alone in an establishment like this; Alice was suddenly painfully aware of this fact. Starring from the ground, she tried to come up with an appropriate excuse. It didn't help, and the woman was gawking. It could be comical if not for the probability of being classified as a common tart. 

She promised herself not to linger too much on all the implications such a sticker could bring about and instead start to act - else she would lose her courage or the advantage of surprise. And what a surprise it was!

From the corner of her eye, she saw the few men left-leaning closer to look at her, their faces showing surprise and unbridled curiosity. Of course, they would eavesdrop, a new attraction in the town - and a small town at that - was always interesting. 

Standing, Alice rubbed her forehead, then looked at the older woman pushing all the ridiculous thoughts aside. She was slightly smaller than the robust woman. 

Alice sighed, at last, breaking the long uncomfortable silence. "I apologize for causing such a commotion," she started politely ", but it is nearly midnight, and I haven't had anywhere else to go..." Alice finished her last words in a deadpan whisper, not even needing to act her fatigue or despair as it had crashed on her entirely.  
  
The older woman seemed to compose herself at last and smiled a tentative smile, not a genuine one, but it seemed she wouldn't turn her down. Her eyes reflecting something akin to pity Alice assumed she had to look horrible then.

"It is nothing. Do not worry." the woman hesitated, searching her eyes. Alice didn't dare to flinch or look elsewhere, and finally, after another pause, she introduced herself. "I am Marta. My husband owns this inn. And you are?"

"Madam, my name is Alice Hare." She breathed the words out.

"Come then, sit here. I will bring you something and then you can tell me how you ended here." She sat her down away from the curious glances of the townsfolk. And when she returned with a plate of cheese, meat and bread, placing it before her, Alice couldn't resist wolfing it down like a starved animal forgetting all her table manners.  
  


Marta, still smiling, took the plate away. "So what happened?" she asked quietly, only for her to hear. It was clear that the older woman was not dumb at all, and her act didn't fool her a bit. Alice's voice quivered slightly as she told her what happened; haltingly, considering her every word, changing the story here and there, and not letting the woman know exactly from where she came from. Not yet, and so she lied to save her ass.

"My brother and I... we were travelling back to Minas Tiris," Alice tried to start crying or at least sobbing, but failed miserably. "... We were travelling for several weeks and the last night in the forest... It is a one day trip from here..."

"You mean the Troll Haws? Your brother was not too cautious, was he?" Alice blinked. "In these days... through the Troll Haws..." the woman - Marta looked disgusted.

"And as we stayed there during the night... I was so tired we were travelling non-stop from the early morning... it was entirely my fault." Alice's voice broke "They attacked us..." she shivered visibly, remembering the sounds from previous. Marta looked at her with sharp eyes, and the girl was paling to almost ash grey colour as she talked.

"They attacked us... those wolves, they were huge, monstrous beasts." It seemed that Alice was now talking mostly to herself. "And my brother," she choked on the word, "told me to climb on the nearest tree and to stay there..." images fluttered back and forth through her mind and Alice this time had not to pretend anything. She whimpered, now openly crying.

The older woman was immediately by her side, hugging her tightly. Alice clung to her as if her life depended on it. "Hush child... Now you are safe. The walls are strong; no wargs will enter Blackacre.." Marta whispered to her. "Come, you need some sleep. It will refresh you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I learned so much about Lexaurin; it's not even funny. Remember, do not use the strong medication without doctors orders. Always consult your GP / house doctor / Dr House (not Doctor Who) if you have a medical condition. Always read packaged leaflet!
> 
> And I recommend reading a classic: Arthur Conan Doyle's The Hound of Baskervilles.
> 
> That's all for today. ❤️ I live for your comments. ❤️

**Author's Note:**

> Suggestions and opinions are always welcome. ♥️


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